


You Don't Have To Change

by rinnwrites



Series: Let Me Go [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Basically, Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 23:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14175288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites/pseuds/rinnwrites
Summary: “Of course, you’re a soldier, saving lives, Captain America’s right hand. Women will be dripping off of you in no time flat.” he said with an amused smirk, crossing to a table where Bucky’s new gear was laid out. “Not that you really want them to.” he added under his breath.Bucky caught the words. Quiet as they were, the room was quieter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”





	You Don't Have To Change

**Author's Note:**

> Have a little prequel of where it all started for Howard and Bucky.
> 
> Once again, this is unbeta-ed. Feel free to point out mistakes so I can fix them, but please be kind!

Aside from the aching of his body (like every nerve ending was healing from a burn), Bucky felt more or less himself upon his return to London with his fellow rescued POWs. There were strange nightmares, flashes of memory from his time as a lab rat, but he was able to push them down, cover them with relief to be alive and unharmed. In truth, he felt stronger than ever before, sturdier. He was ready to rejoin the fight and take down those HYDRA bastards with Steve at his side.

The way his best friend had changed was hard to wrap his mind around. After all the time he’d known Steve as the small and fragile boy with an indestructible confidence, it seemed he’d finally grown into his fire and drive...with the help of a few genius friends. 

And with those friends in mind, Bucky abandoned his stool at the Whip & Fiddle, upon his realization that he would soon be late for an appointment with Howard Stark, the idea itself leaving him just the slightest bit starstruck, though he’d never admit that to anyone. 

What felt like only a moment later, he found himself knocking on the jamb of an open door, peering inside what looked like an empty workshop, various projects lying abandoned all around and not a person in sight. 

“Just a minute!”

He heard the voice, but didn’t see any person to go along with it. It was getting late, and most of the usual occupants of these SSR labs and planning rooms had checked out for the evening, all probably enjoying the high spirits that Captain America’s gallant return had brought to what seemed to be the whole of the Allied forces. 

A moment later, a head poked out from under a car in the middle of the room. Bucky recognized the car and the man in an instant, from his last night in New York, Howard Stark and his grand flying automobile. 

“Trying to get this thing up a running in between Howling Commandos costume fittings.” Howard said with a grin as he clambered out from under the car and stood up to take Bucky in, reaching out a greasy hand to shake. “Howard Stark.” he introduced curtly.

Bucky wrinkled his nose at the term  _ costume fittings _ , but took it with a grain of salt at the grin on the man’s face. “I know who you are, saw that thing go up in smoke right up on stage in front of everyone,” he answered with a matching grin. “Bucky Barnes.” he replied, shaking the offered hand, uncaring of the grime it transferred to his own. 

Howard surprised him by laughing delightedly at Bucky’s words. He wasn’t often called out that way, not anymore, and it was refreshing.

Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way those warm brown eyes crinkled shut in amusement, their carefree innocence a lovely contrast to the muscled arms exposed by a sweat and grease-stained undershirt, short, dirty fingernails, all the signs of someone who worked hard with their hands. It sent a shiver up his spine, he tried directing his thoughts towards another topic. 

“Now I’ve outfitted most of the Commados with some new explosives and other gadgets, but you’re a sniper, right? I’ve got a rifle over here I think you’ll love. All the bells and whistles…”

Howard went on and Bucky indulgently watched him walk away before following after and trying to focus on the words. He listened to Howard talk, offering answers and opinions on his excited chatter when necessary, but mostly trying not to stare, or react when those hands rested on his to demonstrate a rifle feature, or smoothed navy fabric over the tops of his shoulders. 

The man was a whirlwind of wit and enthusiasm, and Bucky could listen to him talk all day. The country’s infatuation with the man was imminently understandable, and it was all Bucky could do to keep his expression innocuous and his hands to himself. He left with assurances that the modifications to his gear would be ready as soon as possible, and a desperate desire to find a pretty brunette to distract him from the thoughts in his mind. 

 

*****

 

Bucky had known for ages that there was something...well... _ off _ about him. His eyes had always lingered in communal showers, his mind wandering to places that made him feel dirty and ashamed. It was that shame that had instigated his skirt-chasing at such an early age.

By now, in his twenties, he could pick up women at an Olympic level, nevermind his lack of interest in them deep down. Bucky knew that he was gay, but he also knew what happened to guys like that, and it wasn’t a path he wanted to walk down. It made the flashbacks of his time with Zola seem like a walk in the park. 

So he continued to do what he was good at, charm them, take them out, take them home, convince himself he was enjoying it all the while. 

Of course, at wartime, and dressed up in army greens, he didn’t particularly need to be any good at this. The lovely blonde hanging off of his every word probably didn’t need more than the word ‘Sergeant’ to be interested in him. So long as Steve wasn’t in the room. 

So with minimal interest he regaled her with the story of his escape from behind enemy lines, and was almost relieved when he felt a tap on his shoulder, then was handed a note informing him that his gear was ready. 

Howard would be in the workshop late if he wanted to come see it. 

Bucky ignored the goosebumps on his skin and made his excuses to the young woman, who seemed disappointed but still impressed that he was needed by the war effort at this hour. 

Familiar footsteps took him the same route as days ago, and he found a similar scene, a workshop deserted, save for Howard Stark, who was once again tinkering with that damned red car. 

“Sorry to pull you away from whatever broad you were busy impressing.” Howard said without turning around to see that it was Bucky at the door. 

“There’ll be more.” he shot back simply.

At that, Howard turned around, rolling his eyes, “Of course, you’re a soldier, saving lives, Captain America’s right hand. They’ll be dripping off of you in no time flat.” he said with an amused smirk, crossing to a table where Bucky’s new gear was laid out. “Not that you really want them to.” he added under his breath.

Bucky caught the words. Quiet as they were, the room was quieter. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked softly, his tone verging on dangerous as he lingered at the door, wondering if he’d need to make an escape. 

“That it takes one to know one.” Howard’s tone was still soft, but these words were clearly meant for Bucky’s ears to pick up, an admission and an accusation in one. 

His mouth dropped open, eyes wide in surprise as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. 

“You could have taken that blonde home and come here tomorrow, but you didn’t.” There’s a challenge in his eyes to go with the words, as if daring Bucky to deny what he was saying. 

Bucky couldn’t.

“You look at me the way they look at you.” These words came a little softer, a little more vulnerable. Howard’s daring facade cracked, betraying the nerves under his skin, proof that he’s not quite as stoic as he’d like to seem.

Bucky’s cheeks flushed at that, and he drew forward, closing half the distance between them. They both knew that at this point, Bucky wouldn’t deny what was being insinuated, but neither were prepared for him to push it just that much further, “You saved my life.”

A silent moment passed before-

“That was Steve.” Howard shook his head, smiling deprecatingly. He didn’t save people, he was the brains behind a thousand different ways of killing, but he was no savior. 

“Are you sure?” Those three words took the place of a lengthy protest, an explanation of how Steve would never be what he was without Howard there, and even then he’d never have reached Bucky without Howard’s efforts to deliver him. 

“Maybe-” Bucky was in front of him now, and Howard’s words stuck in his throat as warmth washed over him at the proximity. 

“Maybe you’re the hero.” Bucky supplied softly, taking the chance of his life as he gently pinned Howard against the workbench, ignoring the sirens in his head and the roar of his heartbeat in his own ears as he pressed forward, his lips finding Howard’s in the most innocent of kisses, a gentle press then a retreat to find Howard’s gaze. 

“Maybe.” Howard echoed weakly in the space between them, before reaching a hand up and threading fingers though Bucky’s soft hair to pull him in further for another press of lips, drinking him in like water in a desert. 

Lips parted and the kiss deepened, and the air around them seemed to whirl with electricity as gentle and timid became sure and desperate. Bucky’s hands found Howard’s hips gripping them with strong fingers to anchor himself as the scientist bit and licked at his lower lip, pulling a surprised groan from the soldier. 

Suddenly they couldn’t be close enough, and Bucky lifted Howard to sit on the table, the pristine gear beneath him forgotten as Bucky pushed his knees apart to settle in the space between his thighs, drawing a gasp from Howard, who used a hand to fist in the back of Bucky’s shirt and pull him ever closer. 

Neither man could say how much time passed before the slamming of a door out in the hall sent a shock through them, springing them apart like matching poles of a magnet. Footsteps echoed down the hall in their direction and they both hastily straightened out their clothes, putting a good distance between them, lest they be seen too close together. 

“And so the loops on the back of the jacket should be just the right size for the rifle ammo you'll need.” Howard said calmly, flawlessly resuming a professional tone just as Colonel Phillips walked through the door. 

The man offered only a nod to Bucky before gesturing for Howard to follow him. 

“Give it a try, Sergeant Barnes, and let me know if you have any complaints. I’ll be here in the workshop most evenings.” Howard continued, talking a few backward steps towards the Colonel and the door, so only Bucky could see the suggestive glint in his eye. “I’ll be happy to take another pass at it for you.”

He left Bucky starting after him in silence, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t been dreaming as his fingers traced a wrinkle in the otherwise perfect navy jacket on the table. 


End file.
